From Here to There
by swirlpop
Summary: Ffamran can no longer stand Archadia. Its crested towers and opulence forces him to do what he must in order to get what he wants - and if anyone knows how to get what he wants, it's the soon-to-be Balthier. Balthier/Gabranth.


**A/N:  
**My god. First of all, I don't know if I want to keep this as a one-shot or not. It's so tempting. But plot bunnies… they're sexing it up in my head, man. D: MAKE THEM STOP DOING IT PLEASE. I'll leave it as incomplete for now.

Either way, I rather like this fic. I really do have a fondness for Gabranth and Balthier together. Banter, it r gudz. This fic transports me, and I hope it transports you. If it doesn't, YELL AT ME AND TELL ME WHAT'S WRONG. LIKE THIS. IN ALL CAPS. DO IT. WORD.

Enjoy. ;3

* * *

**From Here to There.  
**---------------------------

I envy those who smell like sunstones and sand. Their tongues utter nothing but scanty tales of dark wit and whim, yet they hold my ears captive like I hold their hands in chains. I can't stand putting irons around the wrists of folk whose lifestyle I wish for myself. I'm a firm believer in doing what you must to get what you want (which leads me to believe I am a sky pirate in the making), but for some reason unbeknownst to me, I am still clad in this lanky rubbish of Judgehood. Perhaps the Gods have given me a task I must yet undergo – it gnaws at me, the unknown beast. Soon, though, I shall make a rather dashing getaway if I do say so myself. And I do say so myself, mind you.

The airship I'm on is similarly another pile of lanky rubbish; Archadia seems to be fond of the stuff. I doubt we'll make it past Nabradia with the way this sputters and moans. Sounds worse than those gutter mistresses, if you ask me. Not that I have any experience in those matters of course.

I've a talk scheduled with my father later on today. He gets more and more batty by the day, really. I daresay he will wax poetic about the beauties and wonders of nethicite for about 90% of our discourse.

Blast. This airship is absolute shite – this has to be about the 6th time I have to run off to calibrate the engines. But then again – mustn't be late for daddy dearest now, can we?

* * *

Ffamran was the vision of anxious impatience: crossed arms, jutted hip, and fingers tapping forearms with indiscernible beats. He was standing before the grandly decorated double doors sealing his father's office, glaring at a thriving potted plant to the left of the doors. As he stared a hole into the innocent plant, he couldn't help wondering what The Glorious Dr. Cid could possibly have wanted with a human who didn't have nethicite on the mind 24/7 – let alone his own son.

The judge's resentment for the doctor grew with every passing day, with every person he persecuted, with every person who looked at him with fear, with every contraption that confined him. The position Ffamran was involuntarily thrust into was absolutely incorrigible. How could his father throw him to the care of the Judicial system, when he knew all the boy wanted to do was tinker and tamper with engines and skip stones in the sea?

Thoughts of complete disdain assaulted Ffamran's mind as he thought of his days before getting chucked into the Academy. Ah, the past days, the days he painfully knew were no more – ancient, deeply threaded days that wove in and out like the most intricate Rozzarian tapestry. He used to be filled with the bright, twinkling laughs of his mother as they chased each other around the Bunansa household, and draped in the adoring smiles Cid gave him when he accomplished a task with perfection. Nowadays, the only thing he heard of his mother were the painful cries of her illness echoing in his thoughts. The only looks his father gave him were transparent – and he was talking, always talking, to walls and ceilings and doors. The day Ffamran's mother died was the day when he lost his father as well. Cid was never here, he was always over there, and he went further and further from here to there until he would end up nowhere.

A resentful frown painted the handsome boy's face. What worth did these thoughts have? Everything had already happened, the past was the past. However, his musings were interrupted by a young woman who suddenly appeared in the hallway. Ffamran automatically assumed she came out of one of the many secret entryways to his father's office. One of the perks to being a famed scientist, he supposed. And one more reason to get away.

"Judge Ffamran, your father awaits."

The carnation-pink blooms of embarrassment flowered on the handmaiden's face when he took off his helmet. The boy of 20 years usually tended to have that effect on many a hume, and her shy eyes were bearing strong into the ground beneath. If she was having an affair with Dr. Cid, she would kill to have an affair with his progeny.

"Very well," he said through a breath. "Thank you kindly, Rolias." He shot her a charismatic, yet thoroughly rehearsed smile. Ffamran had many of those to give to these people. No one could see through his guise. They were all too busy paying attention to themselves.

* * *

This Bunansa boy, it seems, is having ill relations with his father. I observed him today in passing Dr. Cid's office, and his manner upon leaving was rather unfitting for a Judge. I would banter a guess that the vases he so crudely smashed in the hall would feel the same way. Granted, he is fairly new to our service, being a mere 5 months deep in the 10 year training – but surely, he has seen better upbringing than this. He _is_ of the Bunansa line, after all.

Since he is such a fledgling, he is assigned to Drace's watch. Her maternal instinct is the best place for the little ones. She thinks kindly of him, but I have yet to see her reasons for doing so. The irritability he reeked of could be tasted on the tongue, even through my helmet. His mother found her death 6 months ago; one can only speculate that he is feeling and displaying the effects of such a loss.

I must admit that I understand the emotions associated with losing a mother, but that is no excuse. I have found my rightful place, and it is amongst the loyalties of the Archadian Empire. Being a Judge Magister, and therefore in charge of those underneath me, I shall advise him. He is but a foolish child.

* * *

At night, Ffamran thinks about the hell Gabranth gives him.

His own Archadian looks are dark and handsome, but it does not hold a light against the wonderful contradictions of the strong delicacy of the Landissians. He is jealous, almost, of the lightly freckled face and pale blue-gray eyes and white blonde hair. Most of all, he is jealous of the women who throw themselves at Gabranth. They certainly have the ability to catch his attention, with their feminine lashes and curves. Ffamran sometimes wishes he had those abilities so he could catch that attention as well. Whenever he happens to see Gabranth's polite decline of these womanly charms, he feels as though he has accomplished something. '_The law dictates that a Judge Magister must always be chaste_,' Gabranth often says, '_for passion is the blindfold to morality.'_

To hell with him, Ffamran thinks at day.

* * *

With a roll of his eyes and his helmet tucked under his arm, Ffamran hastily made his way out of the compound he was sharing with Judge Magister Drace. He thanked the Gods that the review session was finally over; 3 long hours of hearing cases about Merchantiles was more than enough. The tenets of law were exceedingly boring but easy nonetheless – and therefore exceedingly boring. The circle came full circle with law, and to Ffamran, that was the way it would always be.

He walked away from the compound as fast as he could, trying not to look as though he detested the place with every bit of raw emotion he could muster. His full armor didn't help the rushed pace of his jaunt down the hallway, and as he rounded a corner, seeing Gabranth's sleek stride didn't help either.

The man's aristocratic face was in full view; he was sans helmet, and Ffamran, for a split second, held his breath before exhaling quickly. However, he had enough sense to know that he had been caught with a rebellious tone to his mood. Gabranth knew it, he knew it – and now it was all a matter of what would happen as a consequence. Oh well. He would keep walking.

Gabranth wouldn't. He came to a full stop which made Ffamran halt, himself. Damn. No getaway. Being a few feet away from the man, and therefore under a more scrutinizing gaze, he quickly gilded his sour mood with one more professional. More subservient. Oh, how he despised doing that.

"Was that a look of contempt I saw earlier, Judge Ffamran?" the elder Judge inquired in an sharp tone.

"Why greetings to you, Judge Magister." He gave a broad smile and a respectful nod of the head, embracing the physical nature of a salutation. "And I dare not dream of being contemptuous to our cause," he lied smoothly. His charm seemed to get him out of sticky situations with Drace; hopefully Gabranth would warrant the same reaction. He prided himself on his ability to always keep his wits about him, but the man was like deliciously pure poison underneath his skin. It was a good thing that he was a Judge Magister, because that very fact could serve as the perfect antidote.

Gabranth shot the boy a disapproving, knowing look, and pursed his lips in response. As he shook his head, he shifted his helmet to the crook of his other arm. "You hide yourself well, but I see what you cover. I expect to see you in my office at the Academy Headquarters tomorrow, somewhere in the afternoon hours. Being one of your commanding officers, I wish to discuss your progress as a Judge. This meeting, I assure you, is not optional." With that, he put his helmet on and made off as easily as Ffamran's eyes first found him.

All the boy could do was blink in slight surprise and watch the man walk off. '"Seeing what I cover?" he echoed.

Perhaps not everyone in Archadia was concerned with only themselves.

* * *

I bought an airship last night. It cost a grand total of 10,000 gil, obscenely cheap for an Imperial ship. Unsurprisingly, the obscenely cheap in Archadia completely decimates one's savings. I would barter a guess that it cost near a million to produce, so I certainly got the long end of that stick. The Shipyard Captain owed me a favor, let us say. No one wanted to use her, anyway – I haven't the slightest idea why. It is piece of engineering genius. The poor thing once lay discarded, but I suppose another kingdom's trash is another man's treasure.

I call her the _Strahl_.

I hear her call _me_.

* * *

Three sharp raps found themselves echoing through the private office of Judge Magister Gabranth, interrupting him from finishing the last sentences of a memorandum. He cast a quick glance at the Imperial clock against his wall – it was afternoon. _'Ffamran?'_

His thoughts instantly flitted towards Ffamran, but he was surprised that the rebellious boy followed an order so compliantly. Normally, he was the novice Judge to procrastinate on his duties while somehow mocking everyone silly enough to mistake his mockery for sincerity. Unfortunately, no one could do much about his procrastination as long as he actually finished his task on time. Without a doubt, it was an infuriating and immature habit to deal with – but who could tell this to one belonging to the Bunansa line, one of the most respected families in Archadia?

"Enter," Gabranth answered, while letting his eyes fall back to his reading.

The reply was a quiet, helmetless Ffamran opening the door and entering, then closing the door with his back. He didn't know what in Ivalice Gabranth was going to lecture him on, but he would suffer the rambling for the reward of looking. "You wished to see me, Judge Magister," he said in more of a statement than a question.

Without even looking up, Gabranth responded. "Aye, that I did. Sit."

Mentally grumbling, Ffamran did as he was told. Gabranth's presence in whichever situation would certainly make him haste towards said situation, but he was rapidly growing tired of the monotony of commands – even from Gabranth. The vices that controlled him were growing tighter and tighter, so tight that the vices themselves would break from trying to hold him down.

He did not belong here.

Ffamran simply looked at Gabranth with a bored look on his face, waiting for the spiel to begin. He couldn't have finished his reading before seeing him? How rude. Eventually though, Gabranth would pay him full attention. Ah, he absolutely would. One does what they need to do in order to get what they want, don't they? Also, seeing as to how his time in Archadia was now limited....

With a sigh, Gabranth finished the last line and got up out of his chair. Holding onto heavy gravitas, he made his way to his expansive window and looked out at the Imperial city, his back to Ffamran. "Where do I even begin to start, boy?"

He took off his helmet and gently placed it on the floor before folding his hands behind him. Approaching the subject might be risky; he wasn't sure if Ffamran would tell his father of the accusations and suspicions. If Dr. Cid found out, there would be sure and swift ramifications – but given recent events he bared witness to, he had a feeling that this conversation would be rather private.

"The skylines of Archadia are quite pleasant," Ffamran said, cutting into his thoughts, "but I kindly remind you that I have class in 15 minutes."

Gabranth smirked bitterly and inclined his head towards the noise. "So you came here 15 minutes before your class? Hoping that you would be able to shirk, due to my 'incessant' lecturing? You think of yourself as too clever."

Feigned concern thick in his voice, Ffamran was quick to answer. "You must have me mistaken, for I am simply following the laws of our fine and great Archadia! My attendance is mandatory in those regards, but my attendance here is not. Surely your Judgeship knows this most basic of basic laws?"

To that, Gabranth scowled and whipped around to look at Ffamran. "Spare me your quiddities, boy. Your impudence may not be marked by the other Judge Magisters, for your name bears too great. However, I assure you that you will not last under my charge with your snide remarks."

Gabranth's words were met with an apathetic shrug. "Alright, then. If that is all–"

"-No, that is not all," Gabranth said in a louder voice. "I question your dedication to your position. Even though your father was able to place you amongst the Judges, your actions are the near antithesis of our just cause."

The Magister was absolutely stunning sometimes, Ffamran thought as he watched Gabranth chide him. He took great notice in the detail of his furious passion, the type of passion that was not condemned by Judgehood, as hypocritical as it was. The way his cheeks flushed, how his strong hands clenched – all were details stored into the prodigal depths of Ffamran's memory. Yes, absolutely stunning. Sometimes. The other times were times that he wanted the man to simply stop talking. He was ruining Ffamran's fantasy by merely being the man he was.

"With all due respect, I've neither dropped a case nor been late for any," Ffamran replied coolly. "I do not see where your accusations lie in truth,"

Not to be defeated, Gabranth pressed on. "Your thoughts and intentions clearly do not belong to those of the others."

"Seeing as to how Archadia is not in possession of a mind reader, no one but myself knows what my thoughts are. Perhaps they are indeed aligned with that of the others, but _you_ just don't see it."

"You mock at every turn and opportunity available."

"Ah, so genuine praise is referred to as mockery nowadays?"

The scowl on Gabranth's face grew until he had no more room for it next to the window. He strode over to his desk and leaned across it, reaching his hands to grip the opposite edge. "Your insolence knows no bounds, Ffamran!" he shouted.

"Pray you do not see me if you are ever to leave this place," he said, in a voice suddenly quiet – and dangerously so. "I know of the transaction between you and the Shipyard Captain. You are lucky – the restrictions of my bureau do not allow me to voice this."

Ffamran's blood drew cold. The head of the 9th Bureau of Central Intelligence truly did his job well. How could he leave without having a Judge Magister after him, on the charge of breaking the oath of serving the Judicial System for life? Disappearing from this place wouldn't necessarily mean he had left, he could have been killed or kidnapped. However, only Gabranth would know the absolutes of what really would have happened.

He gathered his cool despite the new information, and to his dismay, the distance between their faces. "Then it is a secret between the two of us, Judge Gabranth," he said smoothly, deciding to close the gap between their faces a tad bit more.

"An unwanted secret," the Magister scoffed, not noticing the proximity of the other boy's face. "You would dare leave your homeland?"

"I never said I was going to leave, your Honor," Ffamran retorted quite casually. "Your assumptions are rather extensive today."

His words were true – he never told Gabranth that he was leaving – but he was certainly going to leave anyway. Of course, he wouldn't dream of letting Gabranth know the assumptions were truth. To make matters worse, he still didn't do what was necessary to get what he wanted, and the recent turn of events had him wanting to leave sooner than later. He settled to get on with it, if he wanted to leave any time in the near future.

Gabranth pulled his face back and added narrowed eyes and ground teeth to his repertoire of annoyed looks. The words were met with his irritated silence – there was little else he had the patience for. Every time he brought up a subject, Ffamran managed to change it to something that he couldn't control. Now he was starting to entertain the thought of the boy actually leaving. At least he'd have an excuse to execute on sight.

"Well, a reply would be the polite thing to do."

Silence.

"If I indeed upped and left, you would have no choice but to follow me and arrest me, wouldn't you?"

A curt nod.

"The silent treatment isn't very becoming, I'll have you know."

Well, this wouldn't do. Ffamran hated feeling ignored; he received enough of that from his father. However, the moment could provide a golden opportunity to finally seize what he wanted. Calculating a plan quickly, he spoke again.

"Now now, Judge – you don't want me to do something that'll actually make you talk."

Silence only a Judge Magister could give.

"Still nothing?" Ffamran then sighed with all the nonchalance in the world. "Alright, then. Don't say I didn't warn you."

With a swift movement, he rose from his chair like heated mercury and tilted his head upwards, bringing a cleave to the silence of Gabranth. The silence was interrupted by a meeting of mouths, by warmed lips pressed into the crevices of each other, by minds filling with commotion and noise.

The kiss lasted a few seconds, only because Gabranth wasn't exactly sure as to what was happening. His clueless, blinking eyes looked at the blissfully closed ones across from him, and there he saw something forbidden. Passion.

Common sense now started to gather in his rowdy mind, and more out of shock than anything else, he forcibly pushed his company back down into the chair. "Judge Ffamran!" he said through a sputtering cry. "What in the hell is the meaning of this?!" He straightened himself out and gaped incredulously at the chuckling boy.

Rising back up from the chair, Ffamran smirked and traced his finger along the desk, rapidly closing the distance between the two. "I see I have you talking now," he commented smugly.

Gabranth stood his ground, surveying the boy warily as he came closer and closer. "You know that Judge Magisters make a vow of staying as true to chastity as possible," he said in a voice that was not as convincing as he would have liked. "This is nonsense."

"You want me."

Taken aback by the brazen statement, Gabranth hesitated. "I do not," he protested lamely, "I take desire for no one." He took two steps back for every two steps Ffamran paced forward, until his armor made an unpleasant crash against the windowpane.

"Since you haven't made any moves characteristic of yourself, such as beheading me on the spot, I am likely to think otherwise."

The boy had a point, Gabranth thought. Why wasn't he being more stern in his duty? Was it because it had been so long since he was intimate with someone? Did it remind him of the carefree, happy days of his youth, the days of his mother before it was wrenched away from him? As much as he wanted to deny it, he saw that parallel of them both losing maternal blood. Did that similarity make him want to connect with this wretched boy instead of the others who undoubtedly wanted his affection? It seemed like the fastest way to a cathartic release. It was tempting. It was...

No.

No. Bygones were bygones, and he was a new man now. He snapped himself back to the situation, strengthening his discipline. In a voice commanding nothing less than pure authority, he finally spoke.

"Do not try to seduce me, Ffamran. I stay bound to my duties, unlike yourself."

As if the man said nothing at all to stave off his advance, Ffamran smiled winningly and placed his hand on the window, directly to the left of Gabranth's head. "Oh, I'm sure you're allowed a small bit of fun every now and then. Other Judges don't uphold laws, solely for the purpose of their own personal gain. You tell me you are different?"

"I am."

Ffamran snorted. "Right. Well, you are still exceedingly young for a Judge Magister at 33, and you are also not of Archadia. Perhaps later, you shall learn that honor does not lead to survival 'round these parts."

Gabranth found himself wondering how a lecture he was intending on giving Ffamran ended up with Ffamran giving a lecture to him. Nevertheless, he did not care for those who reminded him of the two points he was most sensitive about – his inexperience and his blood. To add insult to injury, it was especially offensive coming from one who ranked so young. "Leave," he said coldly.

"Make me."

A blur of liquid steel flashed through the air and appeared at the boy's exposed neck. There was no flinch.

"Perhaps this shall do the job, Bunansa."

The only movement Ffamran made was an amused smirk to mirror his amused voice. "Very unlike you, Judge Gabranth, to use threats you won't follow through with."

Without moving his hand from the windowpane, he used two fingers from the other hand to push the blade away and to Gabranth's side. He swept in to the man with this motion, holding his sword-hand to his side. "There's absolutely no use in denying yourself this luxury," he murmured in his ear.

This boy was an absolutely infuriating paradox, thought Gabranth. He would never let things be, while simultaneously letting things be. However, his chastity magnified even the slightest touch, and the lips tugging his earlobe was quickly quelling his resolve. His body started to betray his mind, and he couldn't help but lean into the heat Ffamran's tongue was curling.

Feeling triumphant at Gabranth's heed, Ffamran trailed the tip of his nose across the other's cheek and continued on. "No use at all, am I right, Gabranth?"

The use of his name brought Gabranth to his senses. Easily overpowering the hand holding his sword at his side, he pushed the boy back using the hilt of his sword. "Judge Gabranth," he said in a authoritative voice. "You are not permitted use of informality, even in your failing attempts at seduction."

Ffamran merely laughed and put his hands up in faux surrender. "I apologize wholeheartedly, Judge. " He grinned mischievously and added, "I wager you just wish me to call you this in bed – am I right in this regard instead?"

Well... failing attempts they were not. The words pushed Gabranth's unused gears of lust into full motion. The forbidden nature, the taboo relations – it was now a heady rush, an lustful animal that successfully pounced on his reason. He paused momentarily, before letting his sword drop to the ground with a dramatic crash.

"Now you are right," he growled before nearly attacking Ffamran, with rough hands easily splaying the latches that held armor to body.

* * *

Morning light broke, and scattered across a bed, laid sweetly resounding light in a glossary of patterns and shapes. The only occupants able to witness the sun-scored shapes was Gabranth, dwindling flames in the fireplace, and a piece of parchment.

A gentle beam caught the man in its dawn glow, and he awoke with a violent start. Before he was ready for it, the events of the last forenight instantly saturated his thoughts. Never had he known such shame – albeit, a very wanted shame. There was no denying that.

With a grunt, he shifted in his bed and looked at the space next to him, the spot where he saw the boy last.

Ffamran was gone.

He was not surprised.

In lieu of a lithe body, he spotted a piece of paper instead, with unmistakably bold writing scrawled across it. Grabbing it more hastily than he would have liked, he read the note out loud to himself.

"_I will no longer stay here. I leave to go elsewhere. Stay well."_

"Unbelievable," he said through an exhale and his eyes still on the words. "What a foolish boy, to move from here to there."

A quick glance to the window revealed a sky becoming brighter with every breath; he had no doubt left by now. Scowls were Gabranth's only solace.

He turned towards the fireplace and easily chucked the parchment on top of the starving flames. As the note melted into the reddened ember, the Judge turned back around and burrowed himself more deeply into his plush quilt. Ffamran Bunansa was a smart boy; surely he'd know the consequences of his actions.

But Gabranth would not give chase.

Not today.


End file.
